Fulton Lights - Fulton Lights

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Minimalist sound has minimal value.

By Chad Grischow

The debut album from Brooklyn-based 902537/imgs_1.html" class='autolink'>Fulton Lights is incredibly sparse, distant, and quiet. It is also unfortunately droll, drab, and tedious. Guitars growl deeply in the background, like a dog warning of an attack that never comes. The one-man-band of Andrew Spencer Goldman wants to be ominous, mysterious, and dark, but the lack of bite or edge to the album will leave listeners scratching their heads rather than listening intently.

The cranky whine of feedback on "1,000 Little Eyes" fights with Goldman's wafer-thin vocals for the most frustrating piece of the song. There are layers upon layers of sound throughout the album, but the

layers are muted and rubbed down to the point that they blend into a drab hum. Seven-minute anti-epic "The Sound Of The City" growls and clicks by with distorted guitars that sound several studios over and a programmed beat that a drugged turtle would find lethargic. Goldman's vocals are a wispy falsetto through much of the effort, only taking shape on the piano-driven "Fire In The Palm Of My Hand". Gingerly plucking along with a violin and organ swells, "Autumn Anthem" is the most awakened on the album of sleepy fare.

Fulton Lights wants to be a slow burn album, but instead is a spark that blows feebly out. The distant rumbling, squeaking, and clicking slow motion beat grates on your nerves after the first few minutes. It begs for a careful listen that the excessively subtle album simply does not deserve.